


Promises, Promises

by Auggusst



Series: Alternate Universes [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 7 year age gap, Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Comfort, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, House Party, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Love Confessions, M/M, Mention of abuse, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony is 19, knight in shining armor steve, steve is 26, steve rogers to the rescue, summer of 1991, victim remembering assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: The prequel to Summer of 1991.When strangers at a party try to take advantage of Tony, he narrowly escapes, and calls the only person he can stand to see, the only person he trusts. Steve picks him up, cold and alone in the middle of the night, and makes sure he's safe and sound, helps him forget the night's unpleasant events. The unspoken thing that's been brewing between them ever since they met suddenly becomes spoken, and they face the facts: They're in love.Chapter added October 24 2020!
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Alternate Universes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703173
Comments: 46
Kudos: 212





	1. Take On Me

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about doing this one for a while, and it def cut into my kinktober time but it had to be written! I really love this one. As far as the sexual assault, I tried to keep the descriptions vague but still poignant enough to bring across the terror of it. The story starts after Tony has already escaped, because I didn't want to make anyone read the actual scene. 
> 
> Anyway, the STony dynamic in this AU is so interesting to me. This is like the first time where they're both on the same page, they KNOW they're in love, but they've been keeping away from each other, because of outside pressures. Well, the time has come for them to have what they want, and they definitely do, based on the chapters of Summer of 1991. :) 
> 
> Also please listen to this song. It screams young Tony to me. https://youtu.be/yDh2AehnR04

_Plink._

The coin dropped into the slot, and Tony lifted the receiver to his ear. The operator picked up. Tony sniffled, gave her the number he wanted. He waited there, alone in the dark, for an answer.

_“…Hello?”_

Just hearing his voice was a supreme relief.

“Steve,” the brunet choked out, cradled the phone with both hands.

Steve’s voice was a little sleepy, and surprised, but didn’t sound upset, and luckily, was filled with recognition. _“Tony? Is that you?”_ he asked.

Tony nodded, as if the blond could see him. “Y-yeah. Know—I know it’s really late—b-but I…” He couldn’t seem to get any more words out. His breath turned shaky again and he squeezed his eyes shut, held the phone tighter. The blood was rushing to his head a little, which didn’t help him focus.

Concern seeped into Steve’s tone then at least, and it loosened a fraction of the tension in Tony’s limbs. He cared. He _cared_. Thank god, somebody cared.

 _“Tony, are you okay? Where are you?”_ Steve asked, and Tony pressed his forehead against the phone console, flinched a little at the cold temperature. He wished it were Steve standing in front of him instead, wished he could curl up inside the soldier’s voice and disappear.

He tried to talk, to get his thoughts in order. He had to talk, had to tell Steve what happened. He didn’t think he could lie, not right now, and he didn’t _want_ to lie. Not to Steve. Tony took a breath.

“I…I was at this party, and these assholes, they…they kissed me, they tried to—they tried to touch me,” he managed to say after a second. “I didn’t want them, Steve. I-I ran away.”

His voice was wavering, and he could feel the fear, the revulsion filling him up again, like it’d had when he ran out of the house and down two blocks to find this phone booth. Or maybe it was just the vodka coming back up.

“I ran away,” he repeated. “I didn’t want it like that. I ran away.”

He felt ashamed, not only at what had happened, what he’d gotten himself into, but what was happening now, at the fact that he was calling Steve Rogers in the middle of the night.

He didn’t know who else to call, really. Rhodey was deployed overseas and wouldn’t be back for months, and if he called Jarvis then his parents would find out, and he’d be collected from the street corner he was on, and it would turn into a huge mess, and a lecture was the _last_ thing Tony needed tonight. He couldn’t go home. He just couldn’t.

He felt sick, from the events that had happened as well as the alcohol pumping in his veins, and he was woozy and lonely and terrified, and—and he needed Steve.

He’d needed him ever since he met the guy, at his retirement party 6 months ago. He had needed him ever since he caught sight of Steve Rogers in the middle of a room of veterans and rich bastards and acquaintances, looking lost and uncomfortable and kind of sad, and their eyes had met between passing guests. He had needed him every moment since then, in every way, and his emotions were unrelenting, had been ever since.

Tony didn’t know why he needed him so bad. What made Steve so much more special than everyone else? What was it about him that drove Tony wild, in every way? He wasn’t sure. He certainly couldn’t put it into words now, with tears in his eyes and nausea rising in his stomach, the world spinning a little from the buzz of alcohol. He hadn’t gotten _that_ drunk, but was drunk enough, apparently, to end up in the situation he did. He wished he hadn’t.

He could still feel their hands on him, hear their voices in his ear. He could feel them crowding around him in the upstairs hall, with the music blaring and the lights low. He could feel their wandering hands, first smooth and light but then angry and insistent, invasive, and it made him feel small and weak and stupid, so stupid. He let out a little sob before he could stop himself.

 _“Tony, where are you?”_ Steve asked again on the line, prompted by Tony’s crying, and his words. His voice was insistent, a little panicked, though he tried not to let it show in his tone. _“Are you safe right now? Is someone with you?”_

Tony tried to pull it back, to stop his crying. “I-I’m…Corner of Bedford and—and uh—Avenue J,” he sniffled, brushed his sweater sleeve over his wet face, leaning around the phone console to glimpse the street sign a few feet away from the booth.

 _“Brooklyn?”_ Steve asked. _“You’re in Brooklyn?”_

“…Pick me up?” Tony asked before he could help himself. He’d meant to say something a little more eloquent, or give an actual confirmation of his location, but he was a little busy fighting the massive lump in his throat, trying to stop his lower lip from wobbling as hot tears fell down his cheeks.

 _“I’ll be there,”_ Steve replied without hesitation, to Tony’s relief. _“I’ll be there soon, just stay where you are, okay? I’m coming to get you. You understand?”_

Despite himself, Tony giggled a little; the alcohol was to blame for that, probably. Then again, he’d always laughed in the worst situations, found relief from the absurdity in his life that way. When everything came crashing down on you, when you felt smaller than dirt, what else could you do but laugh?

“Roger that, Cap,” he replied, tried to keep his voice light, but it didn’t work. He was well aware of the waver in his voice, how pitiful he sounded, and how pitiful he probably looked. He hated being pitied.

But it was okay, because Steve was coming. He was coming for him, to rescue him, like Tony’d imagined so many times when he was younger, playing pretend, with his little action figures or just daydreaming. He was coming to save him like he’d wished when he was hiding under the staircase in the mansion as a kid, or out in the garden with tears in his eyes, eager to avoid Howard’s ire. Steve was coming to rescue him now, and everything that had happened tonight would disappear from his memory, and everything would be okay.

He’d been having an okay time, before it all happened. Well, maybe not that great of a time. He’d gone to the party because he was lonely, because an old MIT alum he still talked to on occasion invited him, and he had nothing else to do. He’d gone because he missed Rhodey, so much, because he couldn’t talk to him, and he didn’t have anyone else. He’d gone because he wanted to drown in his sorrows a little, maybe have some laughs, flirt a little bit, because he knew that he couldn’t have who he really wanted.

He couldn’t have Steve, no matter how many times he teased him or flirted with him, no matter how many lingering, heated glances he gave him, or how many warm touches. He couldn’t have Steve because Steve was older, and he was another man, and that in itself wasn’t really a problem, if you were careful about it, but he was Captain America, and there was no way anyone would let him be Tony’s. He couldn’t be. He was lucky enough to even be able to see Steve as often as he did, was lucky that the blond came over for dinners or social events or just on days when he didn’t know what to do with himself, like he had been at least once a week since Tony finished his tour of Europe and came home. He was lucky for every moment spent with Steve, but it wasn’t _enough_ , and he didn’t think it ever could be.

Tony couldn’t have what he wanted, what he truly wanted, and it really hurt, and he wanted to forget about it, tonight.

He wasn’t doing such a good job forgetting now, since he’d called the blond—who was now on his way, _holy shit_ —but there were things he wanted to forget instead now, troubles that outweighed his silly little crush, his pining plight. There were things he hoped the alcohol he’d drunk would dull, would turn fuzzy and faded in the background of his mind. There were things he hoped Steve could help him forget.

 _“I’m coming, Tony. I’ll see you soon,”_ Steve said, another affirmation, a goodbye.

Tony nodded again, and then remembered Steve couldn’t see it and felt stupid. “Okay,” he said after a second, and hung up the phone, waited.

He probably didn’t wait that long, but it felt like a century.

The streets were empty, this late at night. It had rained earlier, and the streetlamps were reflected in the puddles on the asphalt, on the sidewalks, and the air smelled damp and strange. The wind was a little harsh; it was the end of September after all, so Tony stayed tucked into the phone booth as well as he could.

A breeze flew past him, and it left him shuddering, goosebumps raising on his skin even under his sweater.

“F-fuck,” he muttered, crossing his arms. He’d left his jacket at the party. There was no way he was going back in there to get it though.

He waited, and waited, all alone, and a little scared, and trying to keep it all together. He thought he might throw up at one point, or collapse, or go into hysterics, but managed to swallow it all down, let out a miserable moan instead, shed more tears.

Eventually, he heard the streaming of tires on the wet street, and a pair of headlights came into view. The driver didn’t turn off the engine, merely opened the door and got out. Tony would’ve recognized his silhouette a mile away.

Steve called out to him in the dark, and it was such a relief.

“Tony?” Steve asked, taking swift steps around the car.

Even in the low light, Tony could see the blue of his eyes, his bangs sweeping over his brows, his handsome visage. He looked strong and safe and familiar, and the brunet thanked his lucky stars.

“Steve,” he replied, pushed off of the phone booth wall.

The relief was clear in his voice, and although he knew Steve was coming, because Steve wasn’t a liar, wouldn’t have tricked him or left him there, it still made his heart flutter, seemed unbelievable that he was standing here in the middle of the night just for Tony.

“Y-you’re here,” he said.

“I’m here,” Steve confirmed, stepping up on the sidewalk. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Tony walked towards him, eyes big and said, cheeks blotchy red from crying. He didn’t have enough shame at the moment to stand at a respectable distance, to pretend he was doing better than he felt. He didn’t have the strength to stay away from Steve’s inviting, comfortable presence. He couldn’t do that right now.

He walked himself directly into Steve’s arms, pressed himself against the soldier’s chest so quick it almost knocked the air out of him, and clung to him desperately.

Thankfully, Steve didn’t deny him. He didn’t belittle him or push him away, or anything like that. He held him tight, held him close, rubbed his back soothingly.

“What happened?” he asked.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. “I—I was—they started t-touching…they wanted to…” He couldn’t get the words out.

Suddenly, he just felt miserable, and sick, his head pounding and stomach twisted into knots, like everything good had been zapped out of him, like only the bad remained. It wasn’t just tonight’s bad that consumed him now, it was every bad moment he’d ever had culminating into one. He shook his head against the memories, gripped the fabric of Steve’s jacket a little tighter.

It was funny, how bad he needed Steve’s hands on him now, his touch, when being touched half an hour ago made him want to die. It really came down to the person, he supposed. The devil was in the details. Steve’s touch was welcome, wanted, unlike the strangers he’d met tonight, he’d trusted, who had betrayed him, just wanted to take advantage of him. Their touches felt intrusive, disgusting, and the phantom feeling of their hands on him haunted Tony now.

“’M gonna be sick,” he moaned.

“Shh, shh,” Steve replied, lifted a hand to brush through his hair comfortingly. “I’ve got you. You’re okay, Tony,” he said, and Tony tried to believe it. He wanted to believe it.

“I’m sorry,” Tony found himself saying before he could stop the words from pouring out. “I’m sorry for making you come. I sh…should’ve called the police or something,” he said, realizing that Steve was _here_ , that Tony had made him come here.

“Why didn’t you?” Steve asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

If Tony had really been assaulted, shouldn’t the authorities have been alerted? Shouldn’t the bastards be arrested? Steve would’ve called them himself, if he had more information to go on. He wasn’t surprised Tony was having a hard time getting the words out. Maybe he was afraid, or ashamed, or just _hurt_ , and Steve couldn’t blame him for that. God, he wished he’d been called under different circumstances.

“If they came, if the party got shut down, everyone would hate me, and they’d start talking, and word would get around, and my dad’d hear about it. Fuck no, I…I couldn’t call,” Tony explained, looking down at the ground, and it was true.

Calling the police would have been more trouble than it was worth, and that in itself made him feel shitty. He hated how pathetic he sounded too. It only frustrated him more, on top of how sick he was feeling, and a few fresh tears gathered in his eyes.

“I… I guess that’s true,” Steve replied with a sigh, but he didn’t seem happy about it. He knew Tony’s situation with Howard wasn’t exactly ideal, in any capacity. Steve didn’t know the extent of the strain on their relationship, but there was always something a little wrong in Tony’s eyes when they were in the same room, and he wasn’t surprised Tony wanted to avoid any kind of altercation tonight.

Steve pulled back a little so he could get a look at Tony’s face. His expression made the blond’s heart clench. He’d only really seen Tony like this a handful of times (because Tony was too good at hiding his pain), and it always left him feeling unsettled, twisted and angry. It made him feel helpless, like a failure, because he couldn’t take away Tony’s pain, couldn’t prevent it. He felt that way for a lot of people really, but the urge to protect, to comfort, was strongest where Tony was concerned.

Who had tried to touch him, _dared_ to without his permission? Who had tried to hurt him, force him into something he didn’t want? Who had taken advantage of him, made him feel this way?

Steve could smell the alcohol on him, of course, had seen the slight sway in his steps when he walked towards him, and Tony had said so himself that he was at a party. He was definitely drunk, but not black-out drunk. Tony hadn’t given him specifics, but it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks of what had happened. He just didn’t know the extent of it all, how far it went before Tony managed to get away, and that kind of terrified him. He couldn’t ask Tony about it now though, knew it would be too hard on him. Making Tony feel better was the priority right now.

The soldier’s jaw clenched angrily, thinking about what must have happened. He hated people like that, people who just took, who hurt others, who were oblivious to boundaries, felt entitled to what wasn’t theirs. He’d hated the way soldiers talked back during the war, some of the things he’d seen the other men say or do. More than once he had to step in, had to beat some sense into a fellow soldier or comfort a distraught woman. The thought that something like that, like all he’d seen over the years, could have happened to _Tony_ tonight made his blood boil.

Steve thanked God the brunet was able to get away from the situation, to call him. He damned every person at the party who had done nothing to help him.

The soldier had been asleep when the phone rang at around 2:30, but the device was close enough to the bed that he’d heard it go off, had been ripped out of sleep by it.

Tony had never called him so late before. He called in the evening, sometimes, when he was bored, and had something to say, or wanted Steve to entertain him, but this was different, and he’d heard it in the brunet’s tone immediately. Steve was a little honored that Tony had called him specifically, even if he didn’t have another choice. He adored Tony, cherished every second together, and was glad to have his trust, his affection.

He…he was in love with Tony, he was sure, which was kind of a problem, wasn’t it? Nothing could ever come of it. Hell, Steve didn’t think he’d ever find someone to spend his days with. Peggy had married and built a life for herself, and he couldn’t quite relate with strangers these days, had a few dates here and there, but nothing had come of them. No, Steve’s eye had been turned towards Tony, and he doubted he’d ever be able to turn away. Steve spent his days lusting after his friend’s son, a man 7 years his junior, who had prospects and talent and intelligence far beyond most other people, who Steve could certainly never be with, because the world, because fate wouldn’t allow it.

Sometimes he thought Tony loved him too. Tony was always so warm with him, touched him, gave him his best smiles. He listened to Steve when he talked, truly _listened_ , wanted to know him, and although Tony certainly had his flings, had seen a girl or two, even a few guys, he’d admitted one day when Steve had asked about two men he’d seen sneak a kiss on a crowded street, he never brought anyone home, never stuck around them the way he stuck around Steve.

Tony treated him differently than everyone else, like he was special. Tony drew him in like a magnet while he repelled others, kept them at distance. Steve melted beneath his smiles, his big brown eyes every time. They set a fire in his veins that wasn’t easily quenched, no matter how many times he tried to forget, to think of something else, but what could he do? Things were different here in the future, but not different enough. Steve would have to save his pining for the pillow.

But just because he couldn’t _have_ Tony didn’t mean he couldn’t _give_ himself to Tony. Steve would always be there for him, in whatever capacity he wanted, or needed. Even if he could never confess his true feelings, would have to settle for what he had, he would gladly bear the burden. Tony had quickly become the most important person in Steve’s life, and so it didn’t take more than a moment of consideration tonight for him to hop out of bed, get dressed, and to come find him.

A harsh breeze cut across the empty road, bad enough that even Steve grimaced, and Tony’s already miserable face twisted further into a frown.

Steve turned a little, shielding him from the wind. Tony had been in his arms before, in brief intervals, but never as long as this. He’d never latched onto Steve so entirely either, as if he couldn’t get close enough, as if he needed him to survive, like he did now. Steve had never been able to appreciate just how perfectly Tony fit here, in his arms, how good it felt to hold him.

He wished he never had to him let go.

He could imagine this was a better situation, a genuine embrace. He could imagine that they were two lovers taking a moonlit stroll. He could imagine that Tony’s eyes weren’t filled with tears, that he wasn’t simply in need of a shoulder to cry on, and that he was happy, being here with Steve. He could imagine leaning down, kissing Tony, telling him he loved him and hearing the brunet say it in return, and that things were beautiful and perfect and good. But that wasn’t the case now, wasn’t his reality, and no amount of wishing would change it.

Steve tried to push away his thoughts, before his feelings got the best of him, so late at night. It wouldn’t do him any good, playing pretend.

“You’re okay now, Tony. I’ve got you,” he soothed when Tony buried his face in the soldier’s chest again, and Tony managed to believe it. They stood there a minute or two, Tony’s breathing harsh and his fingers tight around Steve’s shirt, and Steve kept giving him assurances, until he was calm, at least for a moment.

Eventually, Tony shuddered in his arms, and the blond looked him over properly, blinked away his dreams, his wishes. “God, you look like you’re freezing. Where’s your jacket?” he asked, rubbing Tony’s arms, trying to get him warmer.

“Left it,” Tony muttered. “At the party.”

That wouldn’t do.

“Here,” Steve replied, pulling back out of his grasp. He tugged off his own jacket, put it around Tony’s shoulders.

The brunet kind of drowned in it, and under better circumstances Steve would have thought it was cute.

Tony pulled the jacket close around him immediately, muttered his thanks. If the lighting was better, Steve would’ve seen the gentle flush on his cheeks.

“Come, get in the car,” Steve said softly, guiding Tony by the back towards the vehicle.

“No bike?” Tony asked, taking in the car before him as they walked. He stumbled a little, but recovered, didn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed about it.

Steve normally rode a motorcycle, when visiting. Tony had even fixed it up about a month ago, when Steve had managed to accidentally crush one of the handlebars, bent it completely out of shape. Tony thought it was hilarious, and Steve rolled his eyes when the brunet made fun of him, but didn’t stop him, never seemed to stop him when he teased.

Tony got away with saying a lot, with doing a lot, thanks to Steve, and part of him was sure it was because Steve loved him, truly loved him, and was too shy or scared to say anything about it. Tony was scared to say something too, because what could they do, really? Spend the rest of their lives sneaking around everyone’s backs, stealing moments of happiness, and nothing more? No. It was better, more _responsible_ , to avoid something like that entirely, no matter how much Tony wanted it.

Either way, Steve seemed to love his bike. He always rode it everywhere. Hell, Tony didn’t even know he _owned_ a car until now.

“I bought it two months ago. Figured this was better for right now,” Steve explained, pulling the door open for him. “Plus, the bike’s pretty loud and it’s late.”

Tony settled in the passenger seat of the warm car, let his head fall back against the seat. “Ford,” he mused, catching sight of the logo on the steering wheel, and he brushed a hand over his face. “Of course.”

“What kind of Captain America would I be if I drove a European car?” Steve replied, though it was just a joke.

He’d bought this car because it wasn’t too expensive, or too flashy, and although he had pension payments coming in as well as the benefit of a very _very_ wealthy benefactor named Howard Stark, he still preferred to be prudent with his money.

Tony hummed a little in response. Now that he was with Steve, his body had settled down a little, or maybe was simply out of adrenaline. He felt kind of drowsy. He was still sad, still miserable, and his stomach was doing flips, but at least he was with someone he trusted, someone he loved.

He didn’t protest when Steve leaned over him, buckled him into his car seat. Steve’s touch was warm, comforting, and so was the leather jacket wrapped around Tony.

It smelled like him, like his cologne. Tony had smelled it often enough to recognize the scent anywhere, and he would gladly drown in it. He tilted his head, breathed in deeply as Steve walked around the car to the driver’s side.

Steve had given him his jacket. He’d _given him his jacket_. Tony knew it was just because it was cold out and he was freezing (his fingertips felt like ice cubes at this point) but something about it still filled him with a possessive warmth. He’d have a hard time giving the garment back, when they got to Steve’s apartment. (Oh fuck. He’d never been to Steve’s apartment before, had never seen that intimate space, that private place that no one else got to see. Steve didn’t like having people over, from what Tony could tell, so the thought that he could be the first visitor, that Steve would let him stay there, if only for a few hours, was enough to make his heart flutter.)

Still, he felt bad about it all, and certainly felt bad about leaving his own jacket behind in his hurry to get out of the party house.

“Shoulda grabbed it,” he lamented when Steve settled in the driver’s seat. “Really liked that one. Bought it in Malibu.”

“Your jacket?” Steve asked, turning to look at him.

Tony looked exhausted, small, and somewhat delicate. He still managed to look beautiful though, with the bags under his eyes and the red spots on his cheeks from crying. Steve noticed how he had wrapped himself in his jacket, tried not to get excited about it, about what it meant, like every little gesture, every smile and touch of Tony’s made him excited. (His treacherous heart failed him, beat so loud in his ears that he had to swallow it down.)

“We can go get it if you want,” he offered, anxiously flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Besides, I’d like to get a hold of the fuckers who disrespected you, team them a lesson.”

“Language, Captain!” Tony replied with a mock indignant gasp. He let out a little laugh at his own joke. The alcohol had surely tickled his funny bone tonight.

“I’m serious,” Steve replied, undeterred, and his expression supported his words. “What’s the address?”

Tony blinked at him, sobering up rather quickly at the question.

Steve really wanted to go there? He wanted to go back there, just for Tony’s jacket? He wanted to go there just for Tony? What else would he do there? Would he find the guys who’d cornered him, who’d touched him? What would he say to them? What would he _do_ to them?

Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. He worried it’d be more trouble than it was worth. He worried they could get in trouble, or it could turn into a scandal, or something terrible would happen. The whole situation would leave him mortified, and it would turn into a big mess for both of them, he was sure.

“No, Steve,” he replied, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine.”

“It isn’t fine,” Steve insisted, brows pinched. “Those guys need to be taught a lesson, need to be _stopped_. I doubt you’re the only one they’ve tried something with, and I doubt they’d stop now just because you got away.”

Tony scoffed, shook his head. “N-no, I—“

He was going to protest again, to say that he just wanted to leave now, just wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere safe, but then he remembered a very crucial fact: He’d left his credit card in his jacket pocket.

He was lucky that he always had a few quarters in the pockets of his jeans for phone calls, alongside his ID card, or else the night would have been even worse. He’d taken the card out to pay his cab driver(of course he wasn’t going to have Jarvis drive him to a party. He wasn’t a fucking kid anymore) and shoved it in his jacket afterwards, thought nothing of it, and with all the excitement, he’d forgotten all about it until now. That was _not_ good.

“Oh fuck,” he sighed, a hand coming up to cover his face. “I…my card’s in the jacket,” Tony explained, voice muffled. “Howard will kill me if someone gets it.”

“Where’s the party?” Steve asked again, and this time, Tony told him.

They could hear the music blaring from a few houses away, saw the bright party lights filtering through the blinds. It was for all intents and purposes, a college party, not too far away from the campus of Brooklyn College. Tony didn’t really go out to clubs or anything like that too often, because they were too public. Half of the people at college parties couldn’t legally drink, so they were a little better at keeping their mouths shut when someone with a name like his came around.

His old classmate, the one who’d invited him, hardly had a greeting to spare him before disappearing into the crowd, and Tony hadn’t seen him again the whole night. He’d learned to make friends at parties though, when he was younger, or at least, he tried, and he did the same tonight, with disastrous results.

In hindsight, he should’ve given up partying all together. Parties never seemed to turn out well for him. It was at a party that he’d met his first boyfriend, at MIT too. That had turned out to be an unpleasant nightmare, which he was lucky enough to be rescued from by Rhodey.

God, he missed Rhodey.

When Steve put a gentle hand on his shoulder, rubbed it comfortingly and said, “You can stay in the car, wait right here for me,” Tony couldn’t disagree.

He’d given Steve the descriptions of the three guys who’d ruined his night as best as he could. Their names were a little hard to remember, but Tony thought he got them right. Steve had a good memory, and plenty of practice identifying targets, so he assured Tony whatever he could say would be enough. The location of his jacket he _did_ remember though, and he ended up describing the garment in too much detail, rambling a little, stumbling over his words.

“I’ll be right back,” Steve assured the brunet when they arrived at the house, gave him a firm nod. His eyes were earnest, piercing, made Tony feel naked and wrapped up in his embrace all in one.

“Okay,” he replied softly, gripped the blond’s jacket a little tighter. Steve’s fingers withdrew from his shoulder, but his warmth, thankfully, remained.

Tony stayed in the car.

He didn’t have to wait all too long for Steve to come back, but he couldn’t help but feel like a burden, feel stupid all over again for all that had happened tonight. The reality of the situation was dawning on him, and the fear, the regret set in, only made more turbulent by the waterfall of drinks he’d consumed today. It wasn’t uncommon for him to spend a few nights away from home (he was 19 now after all), and he’d only been gone tonight, would probably head home tomorrow morning or afternoon or whenever Steve decided to kick him out, but he’d have to come up with a cover story for all of this, and that worried him.

Then again, Jarvis had always been able to see through his lies, so he might have just had to tell the truth regardless, and prayed that the man wouldn’t share the news with his father. He was dreading that more than anything, right now. Howard didn’t approve of his partying. Well, what _did_ he approve of? But Tony didn’t want to make him angry, didn’t want to end up with another nasty bruise like he’d gotten a few weeks ago. Anything but that.

The longer he waited, his forehead pressed against the window, the glass vibrating softly from the insane bass spilling out of the house beside him, the more upset he got, and by the time Steve got back, he’d shed tears again, and struggled to stop. He couldn’t stop until he saw the soldier’s figure approaching, and then rushed to brush them off his face.

When Steve sat down in the car, handed Tony his jacket, put his hands up on the steering wheel and let out a sigh, Tony’s eyes widened in surprise. His knuckles were red, irritated, a few of them busted, and there was a serious scowl on his face. His face was flushed, his eyes a little dark, his shirt collar ruffled. It made Tony’s heart rate double in speed. Had he—had he been in a _fight_?

“What did you do?” Tony asked, equal parts mortified and honored, gripping his jacket in his lap.

He didn’t, Steve noticed, take off the one he’d been given temporarily. Steve didn’t ask for his jacket back.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve replied, and brushed a hand through his slightly-disheveled hair.

“Steve.”

“I just taught them a lesson,” the blond said, shrugging a little. “You didn’t want to call the police, and I couldn’t let them get away with it. I couldn’t let them treat you like that.”

If Tony hadn’t been enchanted by Steve the very moment he laid eyes on him, that would’ve surely been it for him. He couldn’t believe it. Steve had really beat those guys up for him? He’d gone in there, risked his reputation, his integrity, to preserve Tony’s? He’d done that _for Tony_?

Was it just the alcohol, or did the brunet feel like swooning suddenly?

“You’re insane,” he breathed instead, his face feeling warm. He stared down at the gearshift.

“Maybe,” Steve replied, and Tony could feel the blond’s eyes on him, soft, kind, like they often were.

They sat in silence for a moment, some kind of horrible tension lingering in the air between them. Tony was sure Steve could hear his heart beating with how fast it was, and Steve was sure his face was turning red, that his desperation, the struggle to say more, was incredibly apparent.

He had a choice to make here. He could lay it all out, confess his feelings and start something, something beautiful and dangerous and secret, between the two of them, or he could stay quiet, do the responsible thing and put aside his dreams, his heart’s desire.

Tony, on the other hand, wondered if he’d ever be lucky enough to feel Steve’s lips against his, to hear a true declaration of love. The things Steve had just done for him, the way he looked at him, the way he _always_ looked at him, and all the little moments they shared had to mean something, right? Was Steve just waiting for permission, for Tony to reach out and claim him? Could Tony risk this? Could he risk the reprimands, the repercussions of falling to this, of telling Steve how much he wanted him, of being with him? He didn’t know if he could.

He was sure he’d be stuck in this moment of suspension forever, but Steve, thankfully, broke the spell.

“You probably feel terrible. Do you want to go to my place, or should I take you home?” The soldier asked, praying that the answer was the former. He didn’t want to leave Tony’s side. Not tonight.

“Your place,” Tony said softly, but with conviction. He wanted to go there, and stay forever.

Steve nodded, and put the car in drive.

The drive was surprisingly short, or maybe Tony’s sense of time had just been lost. He felt a little nauseous again on the ride over, and there was definitely a headache brewing in his skull, and he could feel himself getting kind of tired, watching houses fly past the car window, tracing the droplets of rain sliding down the glass with his index finger. For once, he didn’t have anything to say. Neither did Steve.

Tony still couldn’t believe all of it had happened though, that he was here right now, in Steve’s car in the middle of the night, head swimming, trying to hold himself together. It seemed surreal, and not necessarily in a good way. It was jarring and scary and had all happened so quickly, and he had just been along for the ride.

Why did this kind of stuff happen so much? Why did his life always seem to be spiraling out of control? Why couldn’t he just be normal, be strong, like everyone else? He asked himself a hundred variations of those questions during their car ride, each variation harsher than the last, more self-dejecting. He’d always been good at making himself upset. That never seemed to change.

His coordination was a little lacking by the time Steve parked the car, and he managed to trip getting out of it, narrowly stopped himself from busting his face on the sidewalk by bracing his hands in front of him. The impact hurt one of his knees, shocked him, and his palms definitely got scratched up.

“Tony!” Steve said, rushing to his side. “Are you okay?”

Was he okay? Was he _okay_?

“No!” he said before he could stop himself, and his breathing got faster, rushed, and it turned into a little sob. Damn it. _God damn it_. What had he gotten himself into? Why was he like this? Why couldn’t anything just go right for him?

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he gasped, and sat on the wet pavement, gripping his stinging hand. A few droplets of blood started pooling on his scrapes. “Fucking idiot!”

“Hey, none of that,” Steve said immediately, and he wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders, held him tight. “You’re not stupid, you hear me? You’re not stupid. Whatever happened tonight wasn’t your fault.”

Tony didn’t know if he believed that. He shook his head, his throat feeling tight. _‘Stupid, stupid, stupid,’_ his brain chanted.

Steve sighed softly, rubbed his back. He hated seeing Tony like this, so vulnerable, so hurt. It tore his own heart up every time he’d seen him like this. He deserved only the best, only happiness, but tonight, that seemed entirely out of reach. All Steve could hope to do was offer him comfort.

“Come on,” he said, and got his hands under Tony’s arms, lifted him from the cold, wet ground before the water could seep into his clothes. “Come on inside. We’ll get your hand all cleaned up, and then you can sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.”

Tony didn’t say anything else, but also didn’t protest when Steve guided him towards the apartment building.

Steve’s apartment was on the 6th floor. It took a little work to get Tony up the stairs, and Steve considered just carrying him instead, but he didn’t want to impose, didn’t want to wound the brunet’s pride any further than tonight’s events already had. He kept a hand on his back, and one of Tony’s hands was gripping his designer jacket like a lifeline, the other pinched around Steve’s jacket on his shoulders, his fingers placed a little awkwardly, his palm open, because he didn’t want to further irritate his scratches. On another day, it would have been endearing.

Eventually they made it up the stairs, and Steve fished the keys out of his pocket and opened the door.

Steve’s apartment was kind of exactly what Tony anticipated: small, well decorated but humble, and warm and inviting.

He walked in a few steps, looked around at the furniture, and the fixtures, and the decorations, the little indicators that it was definitely Steve’s place. There was a record player in the corner, and the TV was smaller than one Tony would buy for himself, and the bookshelf was practically filled to bursting. There was a big, circular case propped up against the wall, which instinct told Tony was nothing other than his famous shield (he’d definitely ask to see it later).

Around the corner he could spy the entrance to the kitchen, and he assumed the bedroom and bathroom were down the hall. He also spotted an easel tucked away between two shelves, and wondered briefly where Steve kept his art supplies. It was a cute place, clean, but clearly lived in. It was very different than his own home (or homes, plural). It felt intimate and beautiful and secret, like a place to hide, instead of a lavish mausoleum like he was used to.

Tony stood in the middle of the room, soaking it all in, until Steve came to his side, pulled off the leather jacket draped around his shoulders.

“What do you think?” Steve asked, hanging up his jacket on a peg by the door.

“It’s really nice. It’s very…you,” Tony replied, because it was true.

Steve scoffed a little. “I hope that’s a compliment,” he replied, offered the brunet a smile. He gestured for the jacket in Tony’s arms.

Tony blinked down at himself, muttered an “Oh,” and handed his jacket to Steve. He didn’t know quite what to say. He still felt entirely out of sorts, and his hand was stinging, and although the danger had passed, and everything was over now, he didn’t feel any better. He didn’t know what to do.

“Go sit on the couch,” the blond suggested, taking off his shoes.

Tony didn’t want to be rude, so he followed suit, pushed his sneakers off by their heels. He almost lost his balance bending over to pick them up but took a deep breath, focused his vision and managed to put them at the door.

“Where are you going?” Tony asked as Steve walked away, and in the back of his mind he knew it was a stupid question, but his impaired judgment, his stupid delicate frame of mind(when wasn’t his judgment impaired when Steve was in the room?) made him ask it anyway.

“To get some things for you. You just get comfortable, I’ll be right back,” Steve assured him, and disappeared around the corner.

Tony pursed his lips, watched his retreating figure. _‘You’re being a burden,’_ his brain unhelpfully suggested when the brunet was alone. ‘ _He’s probably already annoyed, irritated that he has to take care of you. You’re such a fucking baby.’_

“Fuck you,” Tony muttered to himself, dragged a hand through his mussed-up hair.

He plopped down on Steve’s couch, spread out at first, but then thought better of it, after tonight’s events, and curled up tight, his legs to his chest and his head leaning on the arm rest. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, or maybe Tony was just getting tired. He studied the scrape on his hand, frowned at it as if he could make it disappear with just his hatred.

Steve returned then, with a few different items. He was carrying a blanket, bottle of water and a box of Ritz crackers, as well as a warm, damp washcloth and towel and a couple of band-aids. Tony didn’t know how he managed to balance it all, but it was Steve, and he’d always been fucking graceful, so he did it.

Tony reached out to grab the blanket, let it pool across his waist. He grabbed the water bottle too, muttered his thanks and cracked it open, took a long swig as the blond set the other objects down on the coffee table. Tony took a few more sips, let out a sigh and put the bottle on the table. He’d definitely needed that.

“Give me your hand,” Steve said then, and Tony did, watched the soldier’s face with rapt attention.

He couldn’t believe that he was here. He couldn’t believe he was so lucky. Hell, who knew how tonight could have ended? What horrors could he have endured if he’d been less lucky, less aware? He could’ve ended up cold and alone, in a ditch somewhere or something, with no one to save him, no one to keep him safe. He could’ve been used, and thrown away when he was all used up, like a plaything, like a two dollar whore. He could’ve been the next sad news story, only given a moment’s notice, and consigned to oblivion, never given a second thought.

But he wasn’t, wasn’t any of that, because he had Steve. Steve was keeping him safe now, was sitting next to him on a couch, _taking care_ of him, wiping away the blood on his hand, being gentle with him and kind and _taking care_ , giving him what he wanted, what he needed. People rarely did that, unless paid to, and it made Tony’s heart squeeze in his chest.

Steve looked tired—it was the middle of the night after all—but didn’t seem upset, or angry, at least not at him. There was a clench in his jaw, a little furrow to his brow that told Tony he was thinking something unpleasant, and he had been ever since they left the party. Steve’s hand around his was warm though, his touch firm but gentle, and the warm washcloth stung a little, but Tony managed not to pull away, merely pursed his lips as Steve patted his hand dry and applied a band-aid.

Steve was feeling a little nervous.

Firstly, Tony was in his apartment. He rarely let anyone come here, regardless of who it was. It was his sanctuary, his one place to be himself entirely, without peering eyes or judgment. It was a place for him to learn, to figure himself out, to figure out how to carry the burdens of his life, to find reprieve from a world that still felt foreign and strange and lonely.

Secondly, he and Tony were _alone_ here, just the two of them, and although they were alone together a lot, on afternoon visits or in between dinner parties or events, their isolation was so much more apparent now, more keenly felt, with it being so late and _quiet_. It felt like it was just the two of them in the whole world, and that was a hell of a feeling.

That led to the third reason he was nervous. Tony was so quiet right now. He was so damn quiet. Tony was a talker; he had a lot to say, and liked to say it, went on and on with jokes or lectures or flirtatious suggestions for the most part, so to see him sitting here, looking weary and a little dazed and keeping his mouth firmly shut was well out of the ordinary. It made Steve feel young and stupid and scared, and he wasn’t sure how he was holding it all together.

“Are you alright?” Steve prompted again.

He was worried, and rightly so, in his opinion. He didn’t relinquish his hold on Tony’s hand though. He—he told himself it was for the brunet’s comfort, but it was more so for his own. He was more than aware of the way things could’ve ended up tonight, if Tony hadn’t called, if things had gone differently. The thought that Tony could’ve been _really_ hurt, that Steve could have potentially never seen or heard from him again or something like that, was more than terrifying. He prayed none of his dark visions, his fears, would ever come to fruition.

Tony looked into Steve’s eyes. There was an intensity in them, almost indescribable, and it made something in his chest which he’d fought hard to keep under wraps since Steve picked him up on the street unlock. It made the dam break, made the cup overflow, and he found himself crying again, confusion and tenderness and revulsion all wrapping up into one. He didn’t have any sobs left, but he had a few tears, which slid down his cheeks slowly, pooled in his lashes.

He shook his head at himself in disappointment, held Steve’s hand a little tighter, and scooted over on the couch, tucked himself against the blond’s shoulder.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, I—I was scared,” Tony said. “I just—just hold me. Please.”

Steve did just that. He reached around them, adjusted Tony’s blanket with his free hand, continued holding his hand with the other.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve replied, pulling him closer. “Don’t ever apologize. God, Tony, I’m just glad you called me.”

“I woke you up,” Tony protested, and Steve felt more than saw him frown.

“I don’t mind, really,” Steve said. “I’d rather have you here with me, like this, than somewhere out there alone.”

“Like this?” Tony echoed, and turned his head to look up at Steve.

 _Like this_? Just like this? With Tony in his arms, so close, close enough to kiss?

Tony couldn’t deny that this was a wonderful feeling, maybe the best feeling in the world. He’d always wanted to be here like this, dreamed about it all the fucking time. It made his heart beat faster, but made him feel calm all the same, made him feel _right._ He felt safe, and—and loved, and he was starting to wonder why he’d kept himself from saying anything all this time, why he didn’t want to throw caution to the wind, to just reach out and ask for what he really wanted.

Steve wasn’t an idiot. He knew what the question meant, what Tony was asking him. Could Steve lie to him? Could be pretend, for propriety’s sake, that his feelings didn’t exist, that he didn’t see Tony as anything more than a friend? Or could he tell the truth? Could he let himself fall to this, let himself have this like he so desperately wanted, the world be damned? Could he risk it?

Tony’s eyes were deep and dark, and it was so easy to be swallowed up by them now. His lashes were wet, clumped together, and one had fallen on his cheek, swept away by his tears. He looked at Steve as if he were the only good thing left in the world.

No, Steve couldn’t lie to him. Not ever.

“Like this,” he agreed, voice soft, barely above a whisper. His hand tightened around Tony’s waist a little.

That was all the answer Tony needed, all the confirmation. He knew he hadn’t been imagining it all, hadn’t imagined Steve’s interest. There was an undeniable connection between them, something strong and intense and unspoken, but most importantly _mutual_ , despite their differences, despite their circumstances, and now it was being put into words, at least the suggestion of it, and that was a lot to handle.

Tony’s heart skipped a beat, and the room suddenly felt a thousand degrees warmer, but not in a bad way. He licked his lips, summoned his courage, and spoke.

“Kiss me,” Tony said.

Steve hesitated just a moment.

Was this the best course of action? Should he do this? He knew Tony was a little drunk, but he wasn’t saying this just because of the alcohol, was he? If it were drunkenness that spurred this on, he’d be more insistent, more care-free and silly. Tony spoke with pleading, with _yearning_ , like he’d wanted to say those words for so long, just as long as Steve had wanted to hear them. He spoke with conviction, and it was in his eyes too, in his expression. He meant the words, and Steve knew it.

“Kiss me. Please?” Tony said again, and Steve couldn’t bring himself to deny him.

He let out a little breath, leaned down a fraction, and pressed his lips against Tony’s for the first time.

Tony leaned up into it, and his eyes fluttered when their lips met. He melted into it entirely, all of the fear and tension he’d been unable to escape tonight finally disappearing. It didn’t last all that long; it was just a small, tender kiss, which in itself was kind of a miracle, because people normally kissed Tony hard and fast, like they were stealing bits of him away. Steve wasn’t stealing anything. He kissed Tony like he was precious, irreplaceable, like he was something special. It felt good to kiss him. It felt right.

Steve’s body was warm against his, so warm, and he could feel the blond’s heartbeat against his shoulder, a steady rhythm, kind and firm, unlike the cacophonous pulse of the bass at the party, invasive, _pervasive_ , and artificial. This was something real, truly real, like Tony had been searching for all his life, whether he knew it or not.

Steve felt the same way. A thousand fears had gathered and receded in his brain the moment their lips met. He felt young, and new, like another person, like this single moment had changed him, completed him more than the super soldier serum ever had. This was how love was supposed to be, he was sure, easy and kind yet intense, overwhelming in a way that left his head swimming for a moment.

Tony felt so good in his arms, like he belonged there, and he was warm, soft, and it felt familiar, like they’d touched this way thousands of times instead of for the very first time. It was beautiful, grounding, humbling, and he wondered why the hell he’d waited so long to let himself have it, why the hell _they_ had waited so long to admit it.

When Steve drew back, Tony let out a shaky little breath. “I fucking love you, Steve,” he said, resting his head on the blond’s shoulder. He pulled their joined hands up to his face, smiled a little as the soldier’s fingertips brushed against his cheek. Steve followed the motion, cradled the brunet’s face in his hand. “Love you so much. I always have.”

Steve smiled down at him, shook his head a little, though it made his heart soar to hear it. “Tell me that in the morning,” he replied softly.

He needed to hear it again when Tony was sober, needed to know that it wasn’t just the alcohol talking. He needed to know that they were on the same page, that something was truly beginning, or else needed to know that this one kiss was the only one he’d have to cherish forever.

Tony hummed a little, closed his eyes. “Only if you love me back,” he replied, words drawn out. He let out a yawn, and his hand slid to his lap, fingers curling around the edge of his blanket. His exhaustion was clearly catching up with him.

Steve didn’t want to move him just yet. He’d wait until Tony was actually asleep, so he could take him to bed. He figured it’d be easier on him than making him stay awake now, getting everything sorted out. Plus, he didn’t quite want to let him go. It was a selfish thought, for sure, but Steve couldn’t help it. He had Tony in his arms for the first time (maybe the last time, the wicked little voice in his head said) and he wanted to savor it, wanted to savor the fact that the brunet was calm and safe, and that he wouldn’t shed anymore tears tonight.

‘Only if you love me back,’ Tony had said, and Steve wondered how he could even ask, even wonder. Of course Steve loved him back. He loved him so much it hurt. How could he not? Tony was beautiful, and smart, and so unique, a star among stars, and Steve would gladly spend his hours basking in his glow. But if he needed to hear it, out loud, to know the depths of the blond’s devotion, Steve would tell him so, every single day.

He carefully brushed the brunet’s bangs out of his eyes, got a little more comfortable on the couch so the angle wouldn’t be too hard on Tony’s neck.

“I love you back,” he whispered, and held him until he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I do want to say that I'm not going to argue ethics or morality in regards to this fic. A. It's the 90s (technically 1989), things are a little different than they are now, and B. life is messy and people aren't always perfect, and sometimes emotion clouds judgment, and C. They're still going to feel the same way in the morning.
> 
> I may eventually add the morning after in another chapter, but for right now, I'm leaving it like this.
> 
> Please leave a comment! Also enjoy the on-going sequel to this if you haven't already. https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828230/chapters/57256900


	2. Take Me On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Steve brings Tony to his apartment, they talk things over and agree to be together, even if it has to stay a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People wanted a follow up to it and I was planning on writing one anyway so here we are! Hope you enjoy!

When Tony woke up, he had a monster of a headache. Without opening his eyes, he could feel the hammering, knew that the light filling the room would be murder on his eyes.

He also could feel a fluffy pillow beneath him though, soft sheets around him. It was warm, and quiet, and felt kind of nice. The haze of sleep was slow to withdraw, but even so, he was aware this wasn’t his bed. It felt different. It _smelled_ different too, but not unfamiliar, and that drove away any slow-building panic before it could sink its claws into him.

When he opened his eyes, he was in a bedroom he’d never seen before, and wasn’t sure he’d ever get the chance to be in.

He was in Steve’s bedroom. He was in Steve’s _bed_ , more specifically. That delighted him more than he’d care to admit, and in other circumstances he’d be pretty proud of that fact. But right now, his memory was coming back to him, and he just sort of felt guilty for all that had happened the night before, for needing Steve to rescue him, for intruding on him.

His memory was a little hazy, but not spotty in the least, and he was definitely sober now. The buzz of alcohol was gone, replaced with the same melancholy he usually found, as well as the throbbing in his skull. That didn’t compare to the embarrassment, the knowledge of how he’d acted a few hours ago.

Tony knew he’d been a blubbering mess last night, a big fucking baby really. He knew how pathetic he’d looked and sounded when Steve picked him up, all because of three assholes at a party he shouldn’t have gone to in the first place. Tony’s stupidity had caused problems for himself once again, and problems for Steve now too, and that made him feel a lot shittier than the alcohol had, and than his headache did now. He didn’t know how Steve had kept it together, how he’d tolerated Tony like that, and all of the drama that came with him.

But Steve had. He’d picked him up, taken him home and held him as he cried. He comforted him, made him feel safe and sound, tried to help him forget what had happened. They’d kissed, before he fell asleep. Tony remembered that much. He didn’t think he would ever forget. They finally, finally kissed. Steve cared about him, really cared about him, and after six months of dancing around each other, of avoiding the subject of their feelings, they’d finally had a breakthrough, finally admitted it to each other, at least a little bit, if not properly. Fuck, that felt good. At least he had that going for him.

He couldn’t stay in bed any longer. Tony brushed a hand over his face, rubbed his tired eyes, and blinked, looked around the room. Steve was nowhere to be found, which was a little disappointing, but not all that surprising. He didn’t really expect Steve to be next to him when he woke up. Hell, he didn’t expect to be in his _bed_ either. He thought Steve would leave him on the couch where he was. But no, Steve was more of a gentleman than that, _cared_ more than that.

Tony could remember the words he’d whispered, the way it felt being in Steve’s arms, properly, for the first time. He remembered the look in Steve’s eyes, the way it felt to be kissed by him, to be held, to be _loved_. The memory of that was vivid, entirely pleasant, wrapped up around him like a good dream, even if he was back in reality.

He brushed his fingertips across his lips, recalled the sensation of Steve’s on his, and couldn’t help but hope for more. 

Fuck, he wanted to see him. He needed to talk to him, to know that they’d truly taken the leap, that they were going to be together now. He needed to know that Steve hadn’t just humored him last night with that kiss. Tony had practically begged for it, if he remembered correctly. He hoped Steve wasn’t just taking pity on him. That’d be worse than never getting to kiss the man at all. No, he needed to lay it all out clearly. He needed to know.

The brunet sighed, brushed a hand through his hair and got out of bed.

He felt a bit like an intruder, leaving the bedroom and entering the hall. He couldn’t hear anything really, and suspected Steve wasn’t even home at the moment, so he went to the bathroom, tried to make himself look a fraction more presentable, and relieved himself. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual, and he looked a little dazed, kind of miserable when he regarded his reflection in the mirror, but he kind of expected that, after the night he’d had.

When he got to the kitchen and living room, Steve was nowhere to be found, which was more than a little disappointing, but Tony suspected he had a routine to follow, and just because Tony was knocked out in his bed didn’t mean he couldn’t follow it. Tony thought about snooping around to find some pain killers for his headache, but settled for downing half of the water bottle he’d left on the coffee table the night before, cringing just a little because it was warm now. It’d be rude to make himself at home though, to go looking through Steve’s things, even if he was left alone here. He of all people understood the subject of crossing boundaries.

So he curled up on the couch, waited for Steve to come back from wherever the hell he was, fiddling with the thin, gold chain around his neck. The clock on the wall told him it was already 10, and he wondered how long Steve had been gone, and when he’d be coming back. He wondered what Steve did every morning, if he’d already eaten breakfast for himself, gone on a run or something. He wondered if Steve was a quick riser or if he lingered in bed like Tony did, unless driven to action by one project or another. He wondered a lot, and although he knew Steve pretty well, he wanted to know more, wanted to know the things he kept to himself, that he didn’t share with others. Tony wanted to know it all.

He didn’t have to wait too long before the door was opening though. Steve entered, holding a drink carrier in one hand and a bag in the other. He looked damn good, as usual, wearing a stupid tight, white shirt and jeans and his leather jacket. His bangs were a little windswept, his cheeks a little rosy from the cool temperature outside, which really just completed the picture. He was a sight for sore eyes, and Tony’s mood instantly improved.

Steve’s eyes settled on Tony immediately as he got in the door, and he smiled a little.

“Morning. Sleep well?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tony replied, sitting up straighter on the couch.

His heart jumped a little at the smile the blond gave him, at how fond and familiar it was, no annoyance, no sense of irritation or disgust, even though Tony had essentially made a fool of himself the night before. Steve hadn’t cared. He didn’t make fun of Tony then and he wouldn’t now, and that was kind of amazing, left him a little speechless.

Tony eyed the contents of Steve’s hands, couldn’t focus on his beautiful face anymore. It was like staring into the sun. “Did you—“

“Went and got you breakfast. Figured you’d need a little pick-me-up after everything.”

Steve set the drinks and bag down on the coffee table in front of Tony. He took off his jacket and shoes next, put them in their proper place.

“You didn’t have to,” Tony replied, though he couldn’t help but smile a little at the gesture, straightened the collar of his sweater, felt a rush of heat flow through him like it always did when he saw Steve standing before him, in all his glory.

“I wanted to,” Steve replied with a shrug, and brushed a hand through his hair, seemingly unaware of the profound effect he tended to have on the brunet. He sat down next to Tony, looked him over.

Tony looked better than Steve was expecting, given all that had happened the night before, and the late hour he’d gone to sleep. He seemed comfortable now, even a little happy, not nearly as small and sad as he had been when Steve brought him home.

It was a relief, really. He much rather preferred Tony like this, still looking a little sleepy, his curls all disheveled, but safe, and without tears marring his cheeks. Steve could stare at him forever, had stared his fair share last night if he was honest with himself, sitting on the couch with Tony in his arms, waiting until he was completely asleep to move him to the bed. He’d never get enough of the view though, didn’t think it was possible too. Tony was stunning, in every sense of the word.

Steve watched Tony’s eyes inspect the items he’d brought now, saw the question forming on his lips.

“Which drink’s mine?” Tony asked, regarding the cups.

The logo on the side of the cups and the bag told him they were from a local place, maybe a Brooklyn specialty that Tony had never heard of. He rarely found himself in small businesses, especially since leaving MIT, but sometimes he thought about them, about those quaint little shops on street corners with honest, hard-working people, with dedicated customers and a sense of community. He thought about what it’d be like to belong to a community like that, to be himself, honestly, without the pressures of a title or name or a fortune big enough to fund a small country.

He thought about what it’d be like to have a big group of friends, not just one friend who was halfway across the world right now, pursuing his own dream, and having to rely on letters and one phone call every month to catch up. He thought about what it’d be like to sit in a little local hot spot, relaxing, talking, laughing for hours and feeling okay, and asking “Same time next week?” and doing it all over again for the rest of his life, making it a tradition, a habit, that wasn’t destructive or ended up with somebody or other getting hurt. He thought about what it’d be like to have a connection like that, a life like that.

Sometimes, he thought about just how fucking lonely he actually was.

“This one,” Steve replied, and handed Tony his drink, thankfully ripping him from his thoughts.

That’s right. He wasn’t lonely at the moment, and he _did_ have a connection. He wasn’t lonely with Steve here, could never feel lonely with the blond at his side, and that was all that really mattered.

“I also got us some breakfast sandwiches. Normally I cook breakfast or just eat cereal, but I didn’t want to make too much noise. You were really out, but I didn’t wanna wake you.”

“Thank you,” Tony replied, gratefully taking the drink from Steve.

He regarded him with fond eyes, couldn’t help but feel a little fluttery and pleased on top of his embarrassment, his guilt from everything that had happened.

He brushed a hand through his hair, and took a sip of his coffee. It was damn good, honestly. It wasn’t what he had at home, but whatever Steve had ordered suited his tastebuds just fine. The first few sips made him feel smooth and easy, even let him forget about his headache a little.

Steve smiled at him, and took a sip of his own drink. “Is it good?” he asked, though already knew Tony’s answer. He’d seen Tony drink enough coffee to know what he liked, how much sugar he wanted, the kind of creamers he preferred.

He knew more than he should about the brunet’s food and drink habits, had picked up a lot during their time together at dinners or big events. For instance, he knew that Tony always set his knife and fork horizontal on the right side of his plate when he was finished eating.

“Well, it’s not _horrible_ ,” Tony joked, stared down at his cup. If he looked at Steve right now he thought he’d be blinded by the light, could feel the heat creeping up on his cheeks. “Seriously, it’s good. You really didn’t have to get me anything though. You didn’t have to let me sleep in your bed either. I would have been fine on the couch.”

“I wanted you to be comfortable,” Steve replied, shrugging a little. He found himself leaning in a little closer. It was instinct, really. “Really, it wasn’t a bother.”

“Of course it was a bother,” Tony replied, shaking his head. He frowned a little at himself. “I called you in the middle of the night. You had to come pick me up, off of some random street, practically carry me up to your apartment, and then you gave me your bed too. I mean, Jesus, did you sleep on the couch?”

“I’ve slept on worse,” Steve insisted. He set his cup down on the coffee table, and his expression was serious, his eyes sincere. “Really, Tony, it’s _okay_. I’m glad you called me. The thought of you out there all alone, scared and hurt…I never want to see you that way. Anything I can do to keep you safe and happy is worth a little discomfort.”

Tony didn’t know quite how to take that. It seemed too good to be true, that someone could truly care about him so much. Everything about Steve was too good to be true, but it _was_ true. He was the most earnest guy Tony had ever met, was always honest and kind, and saw Tony for what he was, for who he was. God, he loved the man.

“You’re too good to me,” Tony sighed, shaking his head. His heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute. He was sure his face was red by now too. “Honestly, how are you so fucking perfect, and why do you spend your time on me?”

“I spend my time on you because you’re worth it,” Steve replied, smiling a little, though his cheeks were probably turning pink too. “And I’m not perfect. I don’t like washing dishes,” the blond joked.

Tony laughed a little, rolled his eyes. “I’ll let you in on a little secret: No one likes washing dishes. I mean, I’ve never really had to, but I’m sure I’d hate it.” He took another sip of coffee, let out a quiet sigh.

“Well don’t worry, your breakfast sandwich didn’t come with any dishes to wash,” Steve assured him, reaching for the bag. “You feeling okay enough to eat?”

Tony didn’t have to think much on it. “I am,” he admitted, and accepted Steve’s generous offering.

The egg, cheese and bacon sandwich he was greeted with was just the thing he needed to properly wake him up, and he didn’t have a lot of time to talk while eating it. He kind of devoured it, honestly. Something so simple had never felt so good after a night of distress, of enough tears shed to fill a glass. 

Maybe it was just the company that made it that much more impactful. Hell, a glass of champagne never tasted better than when Tony could peer at the blond through the bubbles in the glass, and the high-end dinners he had to suffer through were sweet as honey with the soldier at his side. Everything was just better with Steve around.

Damn. Maybe Steve Rogers really was the key to happiness.

If Steve was the key to Tony’s happiness, then Tony was the key to Steve’s. He felt relieved, and secretly excited, honestly, to have Tony here, to know he was okay. He’d expected him to be in much worse spirits this morning, given the way he felt last night. Tony was made of strong material though, could bear a greater burden than he ever should have to, Steve was quickly finding out. He seemed relaxed, comfortable here, with Steve, like he always was.

When they finished eating and Tony leaned back on the couch, Steve couldn’t help but inch a little closer, rest his arm on the back of the couch, almost around his shoulder.

Of course he was thinking about the night before, of the way it felt to have Tony against him, the soft, pleading way he’d asked for a kiss, and told Steve he loved him. He was wondering now if Tony really meant it, if he wanted more, wanted to make something out of the two of them. He thought about it for hours, laying on the couch last night, trying to fall asleep.

He felt kind of like a love-struck teen all over again, his heart aching a little, _yearning_ , overshadowing any other sense of thought, of being. Last night he felt like he’d seen Tony for the very first time again, felt drawn to him by something he couldn’t describe, something he couldn’t ever deny. He’d already earned a kiss. He’d be damned if he was too much of a coward to try and earn more, get a little closer. Caution could be blown away with the wind.

Tony seemed eager to let it blow too. He wasn’t an idiot, could feel, see the way Steve was looking at him now, his eyes, so damn blue, tracing over the lines of his face, unable to tear themselves away. He could see the way the blond was leaning forward a little, saw the hint of blush on his cheeks. Tony thought he might pass out one day, with gazes like that, so visceral, so unabashed.

“So are you alright?” Steve asked softly.

He had to restrain himself from letting his fingertips graze Tony’s shoulder, from drawing him into his arms again, safe and warm, like he’d been last night. “After…after everything that happened?”

Tony licked his lips, exhaled softly. He stared down the floor, tried to think.

How to answer that? He’d thought about it all, of course, since he woke up, but not much in detail. He’d been much more eager to ignore it all, to let Steve’s company occupy his attention.

Of course it bothered him though. Who wouldn’t be bothered? It was uncomfortable, and demeaning, and scary, and it wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, but he hoped it would be the last. At the moment, he didn’t think he’d be going to another party any time soon. It obviously hadn’t been worth the pain, the fear and humiliation. God, he could remember it a little more vividly now that he’d properly woken up.

_“Come on, baby, let’s have some fun.”_

_“A little birdie told me about that one party during Finals Week. Why don’t you give us a repeat performance?”_

_“Come on slut, you know you want it!”_

God, they’d said such horrible things. He remembered them all, remembered being pinned, trapped like a rabbit, desperate to get away, regretting every decision that had led him there in the first place. He didn’t give in though, struggled until he found an opening, and bolted away. He was thankful that he had.

He suddenly felt a little uncomfortable in his own clothes, in his own skin, as if the fingerprints, the grips of those bastards were still on him, as if they’d marked him somehow. 

Tony shuddered a little, tugged at the hems of his sweater sleeves.

“I…I uh…” He let out a puff of air that was part laugh, part exasperation.

“I’m…I’m not alright. Not with what happened. B-but I’m alright with being here. With you,” Tony said, scooted over on the couch closer, their legs pressed together now, and he hoped his expression suggested the sincerity of his words.

“I’m sorry,” Steve replied. He hesitated just a second, and then let his hand brush through Tony’s curls softly. “I’m sorry about everything that happened.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Tony said, and he leaned into the touch, relished the tenderness of it. He really loved when people played with his hair. Steve seemed to sense that. Steve seemed to sense a hell of a lot about him, about what he loved, what he needed, and that in itself was amazing.

Suddenly, the distance between them felt a little too large, like a great divide, and he wanted nothing more than to fill it.

“You beat the fuckers up. You came to help me. You…told me you loved me,” Tony started. His dark eyes were filled with trepidation, awe, and a little yearning. “Did you mean it?” he asked. He needed to be sure before he moved any closer.

Steve’s heart jumped in his chest. Tony was so close now, almost in his arms again, and his beautiful eyes were filled with such hope, such earnest emotion. The sight would be enough to bring anyone to their knees.

 _Did he mean it?_ Did Steve mean it?

Did birds fly, did fish swim?

“Yes,” Steve replied softly. “Yes, I meant it. Every word.”

Tony smiled then, properly, and grabbed Steve’s hand, held it between his own, and his shoulders dropped a little, like all of the tension bled out of him.

“Well shit,” he replied. “I guess all my hard work these last few months wasn’t for nothing.”

The blond laughed a little, finally wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulder like he’d been itching to ever since last night. The gesture felt familiar, felt right, like he’d done it a thousand times.

“It was totally unnecessary. You had me from the moment I saw you, really. God, you were such a brat that day.”

Tony had practically caused a scene only with his expression that day in the Banquet Hall. He skipped the pleasantries at every opportunity, did his best to scandalize the other guests, and _may_ have dumped a glass of wine on someone’s shoes when his father wasn’t looking, and Steve had witnessed it all through the crowd, because it had all happened in the span of 10 minutes, shortly before Howard introduced the two of them, and Tony spent the rest of the evening finding new and interesting ways to garner Steve’s attention, to wrap his fingers around his heartstrings.

He’d quite obviously been successful in that arena.

“Rude!” Tony replied at the, admittedly well earned, title of ‘brat,’ and he pressed his cheek to Steve’s chest. He played with Steve’s hand, intertwined their fingers, fighting to keep the grin off of his face at the memory of it all.

“You’re absolutely right though. I didn’t want to go in the first place, dad forced me. All I wanted to do was stay home, work on the upgrades to DUM-E’s circuit board, but I got outvoted. I didn’t want to go, but now I’m glad I did.”

“I’m glad you were there too,” the soldier replied, tugging Tony a little closer. “I don’t think I could tolerate this day and age without you, honestly. It’s… It’s lonely,” Steve admitted, and his eyes were a little distant, a little sad.

Sure, he sometimes had get togethers with Peggy and the old Howlies that were still alive, and they were nice, made him happy. He got to see their kids, share stories, learn about them all over again, but he’d missed too much. They’d changed, had grown in his absence, had _lived_ , and he hadn’t, and that made it difficult to properly relate to them like he used to. It made him feel like an outcast more than anything, like he didn’t belong anywhere anymore, and that was a hard feeling to get used to. He spent his days feeling lonely, and restless, like a wandering ghost. Being around Tony? Well, that changed things.

Tony made him feel like he belonged, like he was connected to something, not just drifting endlessly in an unfamiliar sea. The brunet was his tether, his anchor. Tony always showed him new things, helped him make new discoveries, and find his footing in a changed world, and he never did anything worse than tease Steve a little if he didn’t get something. He treated Steve like a person, instead of a relic or paragon like many others did, and he was always happy to see him. Tony made Steve feel welcome, like he wasn’t just an intruder in everyone’s lives. He made everything easier.

“When I’m with you though, every day is different, and new, and I just… I don’t know. I’m just really glad I met you,” Steve admitted, voice soft.

He didn’t really talk about how lonely he felt with others. He always kept his problems close to his chest, considered them his burden to bear. It was something Bucky had chastised him about when they were younger, and he hadn’t outgrown the habit. Tony made it easy to share his vulnerability though, to open up. He knew that the brunet would never betray his trust, and knew that Tony trusted him in return.

“I love being with you too,” the brunet replied, his heart swelling at Steve’s words. He squeezed Steve’s hand a little. “I love _you_.”

“I love you too,” Steve said, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, relief in his tone. “God, I really, really do.”

“Why did you take so long to admit it then, huh? God, Rogers, you had me on the ropes for _so long_ ,” Tony replied, a little indignantly. “I mean, I practically _threw_ myself at you.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding? I couldn’t exactly walk up to you and say ‘You’ve got me all turned around fella, wanna jump behind the curtains and neck it a little while your parents aren’t looking?’”

Tony laughed at that, hid his face against Steve’s shoulder. “If you had said it like that, I would’ve passed out laughing,” he replied.

“I’m serious,” Steve protested, tugging on Tony’s hand a little. “I couldn’t say anything. We’re… I mean, let’s be serious here. You’re way above my paygrade. You’re the heir to a massive fortune, with prospects, incredible intellect, and a bright future. You’re _younger_ than me, and maybe it’s only a few years, but it’s more than a lot of people deem proper.”

“We’re both _men_ , and I know some people are a little more accepting of that these days, but it’s still hush hush, and in my day I’ve seen and heard of more than one story where things ended up badly when word got out, and I’d _never_ want something like that to happen to you. And the cherry on top? I’m theoretically your _dad_ ’ _s_ age, and knew him…back then.”

Steve sighed a little, frowned softly. “At least one of those things should give you an idea of why I kept my feelings to myself, if not all of them.”

Tony nodded a little, taking his words in. The smile left his face for the moment, as he thought about it all, about the world outside of their little bubble, and the problems he’d have to deal with as soon as he left. The fact that he had to leave at all was disheartening. He’d love nothing more than to stay here in Steve’s little apartment forever, hiding.

“I know. I’ve thought about all of those things too,” he said softly. “That’s why I didn’t say anything either. And plus, retired or not, you’re _Captain America_. There was no way the world would let me have you, at least not without a hell of a lot of drama.”

He lifted their intertwined hands, looked at Steve with his pretty eyes, dark and full of emotion. Tony had never been that great at talking about his feelings, except with a handful of people. Rhodey could read him really well, always could, but even he took a little bit of coaxing for Tony to open up when something was bothering him. With Steve it felt easier, less painful, to admit what he was feeling, what he was thinking. That was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

“I wasn’t sure if it’d be worth the risk,” he said. “I thought it’d be better to just let you go, and I thought I could, but… But when you came for me last night, without hesitation, and you _cared_ , didn’t yell at me or blame me for being stupid, I…I knew I couldn’t let you go. I don’t _want_ to let you go. I want you to be mine, Steve, and I have from the first fucking time I spoke to you.”

Steve thought his heart was melting. Tony’s words filled him with such warmth, made him feel so _loved_ , so appreciated and important and real, that he found a lump growing in his throat.

“I’m yours,” he replied. “I want to be yours. There’s nothing I want more,” he said, and he brought Tony’s hand to his lips, kissed his knuckles.

Tony let out a little involuntary gasp at the gesture, at how fluttery and happy it made him feel. Whenever Steve touched him, it was like every inch of him had caught flame, filled him with heat, but a kind heat, like a divine flame. He knew how ridiculous that sounded, and that he was probably just being stupid even thinking it, but he couldn’t help it. God, how was this real? How was he this lucky? How was he lucky enough to have Steve Rogers in his life, in any capacity?

He remembered the world outside of this apartment though, remembered the reality of the situation, and the reasons he’d waited so long for this moment in the first place, and his face fell a little.

“I want you to be mine too,” he started. “But…but we couldn’t really _be_ together. We’d just be a secret, Steve. My father would strangle me if he found out about us, and I know the media would have a fucking field day. Is—Are you okay with that? Are you okay with it being just us, hiding, stealing bits of happiness for ourselves?”

“Your life’s already been uprooted once. Do you really wanna risk it again, just for me?” Tony asked.

It was a loaded question, honestly. Was Steve alright with it? With only moments of happiness, out of the eye of the public? Was he okay with Tony only belonging to him when they were alone, with no one else knowing who had claimed his heart?

“I’ll take what I can get,” Steve replied, certainty in his tone. “I’ll take every second, every moment I can. I love you, Tony, and I know it’s not ideal this way, but if it’s enough for you, it’s enough for me.”

Tony nodded a little, his eyes roaming over Steve’s face fondly, drinking in every detail, committing the scene to memory. “It’s enough for me too,” he replied. “I’ll take it, take everything I can get.”

“It’s you and me, then,” the blond said.

“You and me,” the brunet agreed.

God, could this really be happening? Was he really so lucky? Was Steve _finally_ his?

 _‘I need to kiss him,’_ he thought. _‘I have to.’_ If he didn’t kiss Steve in the next three minutes, properly kiss him, not just something small and exploratory like the night before, he thought he might die.

Steve smiled at him so brightly he could have blinded traffic, genuine happiness, affection on his visage. The blond leaned down a fraction then, pressed a kiss to Tony’s cheek, let go of his hand and pulled him into a proper hug. Tony was warm and soft in his arms, felt familiar and wonderful and safe, and Steve never wanted to let go. Hell, now maybe he didn’t _have_ to.

Tony melted into his grasp, pressed himself closer, smiling softly. He smiled like Steve was the greatest thing he’d ever seen, and suddenly every bad thought, every problem, and even the risk of the promise they’d just made faded away. It felt so nice, being here. It was easy to forget his troubles, to pretend they didn’t exist. All that mattered was the two of them, together.

“Let me kiss you,” Steve said.

“ _Please_ fucking do,” Tony replied.

He did.

Their lips met a little more insistently than last night, with more confidence, less hesitance, now that the words had been spoken and they’d given substance to this, to the feelings they’d shared for so long. Tony’s hand slid up Steve’s chest, around his shoulder, and Steve’s fingers tightened in the fabric of the brunet’s sweater, and he pulled them backwards so that his back was against the arm rest, and Tony fit himself between Steve’s legs.

The blond’s heart was thundering in his chest, and the room suddenly felt a thousand degrees warmer, and everything narrowed down to the feeling of Tony against him, finally, _finally_ in his grasp. Steve kissed him like his life depended on it, like it was the only kiss he’d ever get, even though he knew he’d be getting more now, and that just made him all the more enthusiastic. He kissed Tony until the brunet was breathless, and pulled back, his cheeks flushed and lashes fluttering.

Tony had kissed plenty of people. He’d had his fun, and plenty of it, had never been particularly shy in that arena. He’d had his first kiss at 14, done way more than he probably should when he was 16, and plenty since, but kissing Steve? That had quickly outranked any fond memory he’d collected, any sensation he’d experienced, and he knew immediately that he’d always want more.

“Fuck,” he sighed, brushed his lips against the soldier’s once more, eager for another kiss, even though he was a little breathless, and his headache was starting to take center stage again. There was something about being with Steve specifically that felt more visceral, more intense and amazing and almost overwhelming, and _addictive_.

“Fuck is right,” Steve murmured, feeling that same intensity, that soul-wrenching desire, and he gave him another, softer kiss.

His hand slid up Tony’s back, brushed through his hair, the pads of his fingertips ever-so-softly grazing his scalp, and the brunet moaned a little into Steve’s mouth, grasped at the blond’s t-shirt.

The sound hit Steve harder than he expected, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. There was just—there was so much sensation, and slow building desperation after waiting so long for this, dreaming about it. It sent a flash of arousal through him, and that greedy little voice in the back of his mind wanted more, was _desperate_ for more. His hand slid back down Tony’s back, hesitated just a moment before settling on the curve of his ass.

The softness disappeared a little. He licked at the seam of Tony’s lips, and Tony opened almost automatically, let Steve kiss him harder, more intensely, and fuck it was good. Tony couldn’t help but fall to it, press himself closer against the warmth of Steve’s body, let his fingers glance the blond’s shoulder, and he shifted his hips against Steve’s before he could stop himself, and damn that felt good.

Tony…Tony was kind of losing his mind. God, he’d wanted this for so long, wanted Steve, all of him, everything he had to offer, and being in his arms, his big hands brushing against him, exploring him like he was doing now was so damn good, and it left him hot, tense and full of anticipation, and arousal was creeping into his veins, pretty damn fast actually, but suddenly he remembered last night’s misfortune, its discomfort and disgust, and suddenly he thought it’d be better to wait.

“Hold on,” he said, drawing away from Steve’s lips, even as it pained him to do so. The blond’s bangs were a little disheveled, and his cheeks were flushed a little, eyes piercing, and oh yeah, it was better to stop now, before Tony let those eyes swallow him up entirely.

“Hold on—just…uh… I really think we should stick a pin in it. For right now.”

Steve searched his face, saw the discomfort in his eyes, and it made his heart squeeze. He withdrew his hands immediately, felt kind of embarrassed, stupid, for not having better control of himself. God, they’d just confessed their feelings minutes ago, and Tony had a hell of an unpleasant experience a few _hours_ ago. Jumping right into it was a stupid decision, no matter how much his dick was asking for it.

“You’re right. You’re right, I just got a little—I’m sorry.”

Tony shook his head quickly, sitting up straight. “No, it’s not—I want you, I really, really do, but just—a-after last night, I just need a few days to…I need to feel right again. Clean.” Maybe it sounded stupid, but he didn’t care. “I want to feel right when we do it.”

Steve gently grasped his hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. He brushed his thumb over the band-aid still clinging to his skin. “That’s alright with me. I’ll wait as long as you need to,” he replied, and there was promise in his tone. “I’ll never touch you without your permission.”

Tony hadn’t really expected anything else. Steve was always understanding, always kind, even in the event of an argument, so he didn’t foresee any of this being a problem. He brought Steve’s hand to his lips, kissed his palm in thanks.

“It won’t be too long,” he said, and smiled a little. “If you haven’t noticed already, you’re really fucking hot.”

Steve let out a laugh, ducked his head. “You’re one to talk,” he replied. “With your big ol’ doe eyes.”

“Oh, these?” Tony replied, and batted his lashes comically. He grinned, rested his hands on Steve’s shoulders.

“Yes, those,” Steve said, shaking his head softly. “They’re way too beautiful.”

“Been working on them a while,” Tony joked. “They get a lot of mileage. Good for getting me things I want.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least,” Steve replied, and he patted Tony’s thighs where they were framing his waist. “You know exactly how to get what you want, huh?”

Tony shrugged a little. “They got me you, so, yes?” He laughed.

“It wasn’t just your eyes that drew me in,” the blond replied, and his expression was pleased, reverent. “It was your personality, brattiness and all.”

“I’m not a brat,” Tony insisted, and leaned down, kissed him softly.

“You absolutely are,” Steve murmured against his lips, pinched his waist lightly.

Tony jumped a little in surprise at the pinch and frowned— _pouted_ down at him, his brows knit together. “I’m not,” he said.

“You _are_ ,” Steve replied, mimicking his tone. “But I happen to like it, so there’s no need to get defensive about it.”

He lifted a hand, brushed Tony’s bangs back from his face. “You’re smart, quick-witted, and can talk just about anybody under the table. It’s impressive, intimidating, and a little sexy, but you didn’t hear it from me,” Steve said, and he couldn’t hide his happy little smile if he tried.

Tony couldn’t deny that his ego positively _preened_ at the praise, and at the fact that Steve seemed to hold him in so high regard. It felt damn nice to hear Steve compliment him, candidly, without propriety or other things getting in the way. He loved it, loved that they could finally talk this way, that the last barrier had been broken between them.

“Well you’re a little sexy too, if I say so myself,” he said casually, though caressed the soldier’s cheek lovingly, let his eyes show the sincerity of his words. “Sexiest guy in the world.”

Tony drew back then, sat up straight once more, a little more serious in his tone. “But right now I’d kinda like to take a shower. Is it okay if I use yours? I probably smell, and my hair feels gross, and it’s bad enough I left my germs all over your bed.”

“You can leave your germs wherever you want, I’ve got a pretty good washing machine,” Steve replied, a little amused. “But absolutely. I’m sure you already found where the bathroom is…?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah.”

Steve nodded in affirmation. “Okay then. I’ll get you a fresh towel. I can also wash your clothes, if you want…” His cheeks reddened a little then, and his eyes bounced to the side of the couch and back. Whatever he was thinking was getting him flustered, and Tony could feel his smile growing a little, trying to figure out what the blond was going to say next.

“You—you can wear some of mine while you wait for them to wash and dry. Only if you want to, of course.” 

Steve was offering to let Tony wear his clothes? God, that was adorable, and incredible. He thought he’d been lucky enough with the jacket last night, to be wrapped up in it when he was at his worst, but knowing that he could really _wear_ Steve’s things, that Steve wanted him to now, was amazing. Maybe all the shit he’d been through last night was for a reason. Maybe he had to make it through the bad, needed that extra push, and this, his brand new _relationship_ , with the one person in the world he really wanted, was his reward. It was a damn good one, he thought. It was absolutely worth all the bullshit he’d been through.

 _‘This is the best day of my life,’_ the brunet thought to himself, and he felt a little giddy, felt his heart soaring, though he tried not to let it on. He nodded instead, climbed off of Steve and straightened the collar of his sweater.

“Sounds good to me. Thank you.”

Steve sat up, settled beside him on the couch again. “No problem. But you know, we do have to get our story straight at some point before you go home.”

“I know,” Tony replied, and he grimaced a little. “I don’t really wanna go home yet. You sure I can’t just hide here forever?”

Steve smiled at him softly, sympathy in his eyes. “Sorry, I can’t keep you all to myself, no matter how much I want to. But we’ve got the whole day to spend together, and then I’ll take you home tonight. Can you live with that?”

“I can live with that,” Tony replied. “As long as you come over sometime this week. I’ve been meaning to show you my latest project.”

“It’s a deal. I’ll grab you a towel so you can take your shower.” Steve moved to get off the couch, straightened his clothes. They _may_ have gotten a little ruffled during their makeout session. Oops.

Tony reached for his hand then, grabbed his wrist. “Thank you, Steve. Thanks for everything.”

Steve turned instantly to look at him at the touch. His blue eyes were so full of reverence that Tony’s heart skipped a beat. The blond bent down a little at his new partner’s words, brought Tony’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Anything for you,” he said, and it felt like a declaration, like a promise.

Tony relished it, and every future touch, and kiss, and moment of happiness he was bound to receive. He was astounded, utterly grateful and supremely excited by the realization that Steve Rogers finally belonged to him. Not only that, but _he_ belonged to _Steve_ , and knowing now how much he really meant to the soldier, would do everything in his power to keep him happy. They’d only known each other a short time, all things considered, but there was a marked difference in Tony’s life before and after he met Steve, and the same could be said for Steve.

Maybe they were an odd pair, with their differing life experiences, but they were perfectly matched because of them. They could relate to each other in ways not many people could, and Tony was thankful for that. He was thankful for Steve, and he didn’t intend to ever let him go.

Before he shut the door to the bathroom in preparation of his well-deserved shower, Steve gently cupped his face, brushed a thumb over his cheek, and smiled at him.

Tony was certain that he’d never feel lonely enough to end up at a stupid, terrible party ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Please leave a comment!


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